


(why don't you just let yourself be) wherever you are

by GeneratorCat



Series: JayTim Week 2017- Summer Edition [5]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Coconuts, M/M, Pining, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 01:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11636541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneratorCat/pseuds/GeneratorCat
Summary: Tim and Jason are stranded on a deserted island.Hijinks ensue.





	(why don't you just let yourself be) wherever you are

**Author's Note:**

> For JayTim week, day five: island vacation 
> 
> Inspired by the Island Adventure episode of Steven Universe, [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwTzCe8wKIA) in particular.
> 
> A thousand hugs and kisses to Ladelle who helped me with this fic, coming up with all the really funny stuff you'll see in the next chapter <3333

Jason doesn’t mind the falling, not really. He does that all the time- off rooftops, bridges, whatever. He’s not even too bothered by plummeting from six thousand feet in a burning, twisted wreck of an airplane, although he’s not looking forward to the lecture he’s gonna get from Bruce about totalling expensive equipment. As if Bruce has any room to talk. 

No, it’s the freaking jammed seat belt trapping him inside the burning, twisted wreck of an airplane that’s really grating his cheese at the moment. 

Alarms are blaring. Debris is flying around the inside of the cabin.

Tim is passed out in the pilot’s seat, slumped over the yoke. 

And Jason is tugging, pulling, wrenching at the strap over his chest but it won’t budge. He’s reaching, stretching, straining for the knife in his boot that could cut through the seat belt but he’s having trouble getting a hold on it. The plane, having lost one wing, is spinning in a tight spiral as it nose-dives toward the ocean below, and the force of it is keeping Jason flung to the side. 

“Come on,” he grunts. 

“Come  _ on _ ,” he begs.

“ _ Come on _ ,” he yells at himself, and he stretches and finally, finally gets friction against the handle, is able to tug it up and out and very nearly drops it but he doesn’t, okay, he’s gonna get out of this. He’s gonna get Tim out of this. So he grips his knife and slices through the seat beat in one, two hacks. 

The second he’s free he jumps up, keeping a tight hold on the back of the seat so he doesn’t go flying out the gaping hole in the side of the plane. It’s not time for that yet. 

He goes to Tim, gives him a cursory check to see if he’s bleeding too badly, if there’s anything Jason needs to take care of _ now _ . But he doesn’t see anything other than a few scratches. Tim had been knocked out by the force of the initial impact, by his head bouncing off the control panel in front of him. Nothing Jason can do about that right at this moment, and they have more pressing concerns. Like the slab of ocean coming up on them fast. 

Jason reaches under the seat and grabs the pack there. He checks under his own seat, but it’s gone. They only have one parachute. 

That’s okay. Jason can work with that. 

So Jason unbuckles Tim from his safety belt- luckily it isn’t jammed- and pulls him forward enough to slip the pack around his shoulders and snap it into place.

He looks around, years of training letting him ignore the random crap flying around the cockpit that can’t help him and zero in on his options. If he had the time, he’d detach the seat back to use the safety straps. He could cut them off entirely but they don’t look long enough to fit around both his and Tim’s bodies. He knows there’s a length of wire in Tim’s fanny pack; he could use that and hope simple knots hold, but he doesn’t like the chances there. 

He glances out the front windshield. There’s an awful lot of blue coming at them awful fast. 

Wire it is. The chances of it holding are great, he decides, unzipping Tim’s pack and digging around for the coil of wire. The chances are _ great _ . He loves his chances. Loves them.

Tim’s still slumped in his seat, and Jason wraps the wire around his chest and loops it through the strap of the parachute pack just to the safe-  _ safe! _ \- and then crouches down in front of him, turns his back to press against Tim’s front. Hikes him up into place- it’ll be one hell of a piggy back ride- and ties the wire tightly around his chest so that the two of them are strapped together. He regrets not having his nice thick leather jacket as the wire digs into his skin though the thin tropical shirt he’d been so excited to wear. 

He stands, grabbing hold of Tim’s legs on either side of his hips, and stumbles out of the cockpit. Toward the gaping hole in the side of the plane. On his way he reaches up toward an overhead compartment and grabs a small first aid kit, tucks it into the front of his jeans. 

He kneels down at the edge, forces pulling and tugging at him in all directions, but mostly  _ down _ , out. 

He doesn’t let himself think about it too long, just grabs the straps on the pack (he has to let go of Tim’s legs) and tumbles forward into the sky. 

Jason doesn’t mind the falling, not really. He does that all the time- off rooftops, bridges, whatever. 

He just usually doesn’t have to do it with another person knocked out over his back. 

Usually it’s just him, and if he’s sometimes reckless it’s okay because he’s the only one at risk, and who really cares about that anyway. About him.

But now there’s Tim. 

People care about Tim. 

Jason cares about Tim. 

Jason orients himself as best he can before pulling the cord, releasing the parachute. There’s a long moment and then it catches, snapping Jason and Tim’s bodies to a pause, slowing their descent in an instant. 

Jason breathes. 

The water’s coming up on them awful fast, but they won’t crash into it hard enough to pulverise their bones. It’ll be okay.

And hey, there’s even land nearby. Jason watches it as they float downward. He can make out the shapes of trees and a sandy beach and  _ not water _ .

It’s not too far away. Jason can manage the swim, even with Tim on his back. 

It’ll be okay. 

(Jason doesn’t let himself think about how  _ not okay _ it’ll be when they reach the island. When they’re stranded and alone.)


End file.
